


It's High Noon In Allergy Season

by EmetoOmo



Series: Allergy Series [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: Part 4 of the Allergy series. Jesse wakes up feeling drained, the sniffles from the day before persisting. It soon becomes apparent that it’s more than just being tired from his night taking care of Hanzo.





	It's High Noon In Allergy Season

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: As you wish. Jesse feeling sick all day and then just losing it when he gets home. Like, the second he walks in the door he just throws up all over the floor, and Hanzo just blinks like ‘hello to you too”

When McCree woke up to a pounding head, and a squirrelly feeling in his tummy, he chalked it up to the long night he’d had just trying to make sure Hanzo was as relaxed as he could be. Hanzo may have been into the erotic puking thing when it came to McCree, but the archer didn’t seem as into it when he was the one sick. In a way, while their trade-off of transportation had been fair, McCree couldn’t help but to feel guilty about it.   
  
No matter how many times Hanzo had simply assured them that they were  _even now._

Sluggish muscles pulled him up, careful not to wake his lover as he left their bed, and headed to dress for his day. He sniffled against that irritating runny nose that remained, a souvenir of their plane ride back home, and the subsequent waiting in his underthings for a ride. Looking back at the bed where Hanzo had rolled into his spot, snuggling his pillow, he couldn’t help but to smile. “Worth it.” He whispered to himself, as he finished dressing, and headed downstairs to grab himself something for breakfast and a little black coffee to hold him together til he got to work.

Reyes was riding him hard from the moment he walked in the door, and ordinarily, he’d make a joke about how he should  _at least pinch his nipples if he’s going to fuck him like this **,**_ but his heart just wasn’t in it today. Being as funny and charming as Jesse McCree too energy…energy that was still at home in bed resting with Hanzo.

Everything just felt like a chore, and little by little he started to feel his muscles betray him. Soreness set in on the edge of a chill that taxed them every time they tensed with shivers.  “Why y’all got the air conditioning on in the Fall? It ain’t that warm…” He grumbled as he sat down in the briefing room.

“It isn’t on, Jesse. Are you not feeling well?” Angela asked, peering closer. He waved her away before she could touch him.

“M’fine. Jest had a long night’s all. Hanzo don’t do well when he’s tummy sick. You know how he gets. All or nothin. Fights til the bitter end, or he’s out doing that…thing with…” he gagged a little and shook his head, taking his hat off to fan himself. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

Angela seemed unconvinced, but if Jesse didn’t want looked at, she wouldn’t press him. He didn’t seem in dire straights yet, and she did very well know how Hanzo got.

The meeting dragged on, and through it McCree’s discomfort. At one point after dozing off, his stomach gave such a gurgling whine that it woke him to everyone’s stares. “M’fine!” He insisted, despite the fact he was swallowing back acid in his throat. “Shoulda ate more than some toast with that coffee.”

Angela felt a little better putting a trash can next to him before they continued the briefing, and McCree made a point not to cast a single glance to it. He was fine.  _Fine._  Just…cold…and tired…and nauseated.

By the grace of some sort of god, he got through training. Defending was better than attacking, especially when they expected him to stay and guard the point. By then, everyone had come to the realization than McCree was  _not sick_  and planned accordingly with their strategies and such. If that meant putting the sharpshooter somewhere he’d have minimal contact with anyone else while they did all the hard work, then so be it.

The training simulation room was abandoned when McCree opened his eyes next, feeling colder than ever. A thick sheen of sweat had his clothes clinging without mercy to skin that was far too sensitive to be touched. His stomach gurgled audibly and offensively, making him wince and lay a hand against it. He could feel the bubbles within beneath his touch.

A quick look at his watch told him his day was over, and he pulled himself up onto shaking legs to clock out. He grabbed a bottled water on his way through the lounge, and back out to his pickup to head home.

Traffic was terrible, and he found himself cursing his luck. His hacking cough was akin to a dying seal, loud and barking, tearing at the inside of his chest. And with each wave of coughs that took him, came the threat of his stomach, bile on chasing the tail of those forceful expulsions, begging for release.

He gagged it back down carefully, trembling hands opening the water to sip and prayed it was enough to get him home. Truth be told, he was felt like death, and partially regretted having not let Angela look at him when she offered.

His mechanical hand gripped the steering wheel so hard as he loudly dry heaved that it left it crumpled like foil beneath it. There were no jovial glints in his eyes anymore, replaced with tears and misery from the force of it as he pulled into his drive way. Practically yanking the key from the ignition as he turned it off, he didn’t even bother locking it.

The sound of the door to his pick up slamming interrupted the otherwise quiet and tranquil day that Hanzo had been enjoying, feeling a hundred percent better from the events of the prior day. He didn’t bother looking up at all, calmly sipping his sake, even as the door burst open with enough force for the doorknob the leave a hole in the wall.

 _“Huurrk!!!! Huuuulllllllghhhh!!!”_ Vomit splashed the floor just across the threshold. The next one came with enough force to knock the cowboy’s hat off, and the deft reflexes of the archer crossed the distance and caught it before it could fall victim to the sick.

Carefully, he sat it on a nearby coat hook, and reached up to take his own hair tie out to pull McCree’s sweat-soaked hair back. Another heave splattered off what was already there, and Hanzo said nothing as it got on his house shoes. Instead, he simply moved around McCree to wrap a strong supportive arm around his middle, his other bracing his shoulder, keeping him from crumpling over so far it came out his nose.

There were times he got pleasure from it, but seeing  _his_  cowboy trembling, heat radiating off his body, barely able to stand on his own…it didn’t even register to him. Hanzo, the caretaker overtook everything. All the time he’d cared for his brother in their past, ever sickness, every hangover…that was the Hanzo he gave McCree in those moments.

Nothing less for the man he knew would see the world burn if he thought it’d make Hanzo smile.

As the heaves tapered off, he pulled him a little closer. “A simple ‘hello’ would have sufficed.” He said quietly, kissing his whiskered cheek.

Feeling like death couldn’t keep the smile from McCree’s face, and he relented to his lover’s direction. “I missed you.”

Hanzo laughed softly, a quiet forced burst of breath through his nose that allowed McCree to practically hear the mirth in his lover’s eyes. The elder Shimada led him around the mess, and up the stairs to their room. “Damn allergies.”

“Damn them to hell.”


End file.
